


a moment in the midst of fire

by Serie11



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25663741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serie11/pseuds/Serie11
Summary: Ailiel is a terrible place. The oppressive heat is bad enough to deal with, but having held full scale battle – it was nothing but a tragedy waiting to happen.Marianne works with what she can. She must.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: Rare Pairs Exchange 2020





	a moment in the midst of fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InsolitaParvaPuella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsolitaParvaPuella/gifts).



“Hey Marianne.”

Marianne looks up from where she’s stirring the bubbling pot of water. She’s about to start boiling bandages – outside, the wounded are restless, and their calls make their way into this room.

“Hilda,” Marianne says. “Are we moving out already?”

“Not yet,” Hilda says. “The professor is still consulting with Claude about our next moves. Because of the terrain, pretty much everyone got injured somehow.”

“Burns are terrible injuries to treat,” Marianne murmurs. Ailiel is a terrible place. The oppressive heat is bad enough to deal with, but having held full scale battle – it was nothing but a tragedy waiting to happen. They’ve won the field, but at a harsh cost. Marianne is all out of white magic, and so is every other mage on the Alliance’s side.

“I’m just letting you know that we’ve finished evacuating everyone who is still alive,” Hilda says. “So this last influx of patients should be all that you have to deal with.”

“Thank you,” Marianne says.

“Annette and Lysithea are triaging outside.” She comes and starts sorting out used bandages according to length. Marianne takes them from her and starts stirring them into the boiling water. With so many burns, they’re running dangerously low on bandages, and she needs clean, fresh ones as fast as she can get them.

“There’s no sign of any other enemies?”

“No, thankfully,” Hilda says. “The skies and the ground are clear. The remnants of the enemy soldiers are fleeing. Claude has everyone who isn’t injured patrolling, and guarding our route back to the Monastery. As soon as the injured are few enough that we can carry them, we’ll leave this place.”

“It may be a few days,” Marianne warns. “Even less severe burns can take a long time to heal, even with magic.”

“I know,” Hilda says. “The new troops brought wagons with supplies as well, so we can put people in there if we need to. I’m sure that Claude will think of everything, and then we can help him put his plans into place.”

“Of course,” Marianne agrees. They’re truly blessed to have a leader like Claude – he thinks of every possibility, so that even disasters like this are mitigated and become successes, albeit with casualties. He cares about his people as well as the cause, and he puts their wellbeing first. Marianne is sure that every death today has struck him like an arrow. “Pass me those bandages, please?”

Hilda hands them over. “You know, I was watching you while you were doing field triage this afternoon, just after the battle ended. You’ve changed a lot since our school days – so confident in yourself now.”

“I don’t think so,” Marianne disagrees. “I just knew that I must act as quickly as possible in order to start treatment for the people who were injured. The faster a burn is dealt with, the less severe it will turn out to be. It’s one of the few injuries that are like that.”

“See? You’re so self-assured,” Hilda says. “It’s good to see. I’m glad that you’re more confident now.”

Marianne stirs the bandages around in the boiling water and doesn’t say anything. The silence isn’t awkward, though. Since they’ve reunited, and since she and Hilda began – well, she’s not sure how to label what they have. Partners feels too solid and steady, while girlfriends doesn’t sound serious enough. She decides that it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need a label for what they are to each other. The point is, silence is easy with Hilda. Either Hilda will fill the silence, or she won’t, and if she doesn’t Marianne knows that it’s because she’s just content to be around Marianne.

“Why are you doing that with your gloves on?” Hilda asks, as Marianne starts picking this batch of bandages out of the pot to hang up to dry. “I would think that it’d be easier without.”

“It would be,” Marianne agrees. If Hilda wasn’t here, then she probably would have taken her gloves off. There’s few people who can come into this back room, and fewer who would do so without announcing themselves. But no one has seen Marianne’s hands in years, and Marianne would like to keep it that way. This is not the first battlefield that she has stood on, and the magic has taken its toll on her.

“Then take them off,” Hilda says pragmatically.

“Hilda…” Marianne murmurs.

“What?”

She hesitates. Hilda isn’t a mage – if Marianne shows her, then she’ll probably be upset. She looks at Hilda from the corner of her eye. She might not make too much of a scene. After all, they’re in the thick of a war, and Marianne doubts that she’s the only one out there risking herself to bring about a better Fódlan. And if she and Hilda are going to get closer in the future… Marianne should probably get this out of the way sooner rather than later. It’s still hard to slowly peel her gloves off, when she knows that Hilda is watching.

“Marianne,” Hilda says, alarmed. “What… what’s wrong with your hands?”

Marianne holds them up, so the dark veining and damage is easy to see. They’re blackened at the tips of her fingers, but the staining only just touches her palms. Her veins on her wrists are black, but otherwise they’re still normal. “You aren’t close with any other mages, are you Hilda? It’s just from overuse of black magic.”

Hilda is silent, but this time the silence feels oppressive. Marianne goes back to picking out bandages and hanging them up to dry. Hilda was right. It’s easier without her gloves on.

“Is that why most mages wear gloves?” Hilda finally asks.

“I would think so,” Marianne agrees. “We’re all pushing ourselves. It’s hardly flattering, and people who don’t use magic wouldn’t recognise it for what it is – I’ve heard of people who were called diseased, who were thrown out of towns or inns when someone saw their hands.”

She finishes the bandages that were in this pot, and pours out the dirty water. She already has a new pot heating on the fire, so she fetches that and puts it above the other fire, cleaning out the old pot and filling it with new water. She hangs it over the larger fire and turns to face Hilda, who has come to her side.

“Can I hold your hand?” Hilda asks quietly.

Marianne swallows. “Of course,” she murmurs. Hilda takes her hand delicately, like she’s afraid that Marianne is going to break. Marianne wants to tell her that mostly, the damage is cosmetic only – that it takes long, sustained overuse for the magic to start destroying the use of her hands. Hilda studies her fingers carefully, running her own over them. Marianne’s breath catches, just a little bit, just for her to know about.

“I’m still strong,” Marianne tells her. “I can still fight. I can still heal. I can still ride. I can still take care of all the people outside.”

Hilda looks up at her. “I know,” she says. “I’ve seen you doing all that and more. I just wish that you didn’t have to hurt yourself like this, in order to do it.” She runs a hand up Marianne’s arm, and up to cup her cheek. Marianne lets her eyes flutter shut as Hilda presses her lips against hers. Just for a moment, she’ll let herself be weak. Just for a moment, she’ll let herself have this.

“The war will keep going,” Marianne says after they draw apart. “We’ve won this battle, but we’ve hardly made a dent in the Empire. And I won’t rest while Claude still raises his banner. I’m going to help him and the professor, as long as I can. Just like you are.”

“Well, I’ve always had a hard time telling Claude no,” Hilda admits. “And if you’re here, then I’ll have even more reason to stay.” She clasps her hands around Marianne’s. Marianne feels the warmth from her seep down into her skin, into her bones. Hilda looks at her searchingly. “You just have to promise to let me help where I can, alright?”

“You and your big wyvern can help me on the battlefield whenever you like,” Marianne agrees.

“And here, too,” Hilda says. “I can follow directions… if I want to.”

Marianne wants to stand like this for another hour, another day, another lifetime. Hilda’s hands are rough from her own training, but they’re strong and reassuring and Marianne has spent a long, long time wanting to be reassured. But there is a whole world out there, and people who relying on Marianne to care for them, and a war to win. She cannot afford to think only of herself.

“Then you can fetch me some fresh water,” Marianne directs. “We have more bandages to clean.”


End file.
